The Big Five Zero Zero
by Sisanae
Summary: Hundreds of candles, stalker dwarves and a mysterious visitor...just what IS going on at Crossroad Keep?


Sisanae's Note:

Sorry! I accidently uploaded the wrong story to this file when I was fixing some typos! Here is the _real_ Big Five Zero Zero!

My second NWN2 fanfiction! smiles I'm rather pleased... A big thank you to all of the people who reviewed and mailed me, it's _always_ nice to hear from my readers:) A extra special thanks to my dear friend, who allowed me to use her character's name for thr Academy Elf. Unfortunetly, I don't own most of these characters (such a shame, I would like to keep them in my shed...), they belong to Obsidian/Atari. I do, however, own Kiadra (although she bears a remarkable resemblance to Drizzt Do'Urden - Much love to R.A Salvatore). For those who asked, she is a drow blade bard, fights with two scimitars (so, so cliche!), is chaotic good, plays the flute and enjoys candle-lit dinners and walks on the beach.

Enjoy! Reviews as always, so very appreciated!

* * *

Sand leaned on the battlements of Crossroad Keep, his robe billowing in the slight breeze that pierced the ebony sky - a cloak of darkness except for the single, ghostly light of the moon. The elf stared, frowning, at the sight of the farmers busy at work in the fields, despite the hour. After a while he sighed, and began the climb back down to the courtyard below, boots clacking as he crossed the cobblestones. He hated to admit it, but he was worried. Something sinister was at work in the Keep, and he couldn't figure out what it was…

  

"Are ye sure about this, lass?"

"We need someone to watch him, Khelgar. And you're the only one who will fit in it."

"Aye, but what about the gnome? He's smaller than me, ye know."

"Grobnar is…preoccupied. Now get in, and keep quiet!" Kiadra shut the door, locking it behind her, before dashing for the room's exit.

"By the Nine Hells, it doesn't half _stink _in here!"

  

Sand entered his room, and shut the door behind him. A quick spell set the many candles alight, illuminating the thousands of books strewn about. Every flat service was piled high with volumes of less-than-great historical interest, or spell books – most of them with half the pages either burned or, in some cases, bitten off. There were, of course, much less books in here than in the Library, although the sheer untidiness of their distribution made it seem so much more. It always surprised his companions to see Sand's room in such a state-they always believed him to be as critical of himself as he was of others…as impossible as that may be (anyone who had heard the moon elf's lectures on the importance of having two spare pairs of shoes on _any_ trip would hasten to agree). The truth of it was, Sand was just always too busy to tidy up – no-one ever lent him a book that they couldn't bear to be without for the next millennia. It never occurred to the elf that one day he might just run out of space…such a thing only happened to _other_ people. So it was with great care that Sand choose a book from a particularly large and toppling pile, removing it slowly to avoid getting buried in items such as "The Young Wizard's Guide to Hair-Loss Prevention" and "Cooking Sorcerors-Whoopssorryweofcoursemeantcooking**for**sorcerors,hahhah,welovethemreally.". He had just sat down to read "101 Ultimate Comebacks" when he heard the creak. It wasn't a short, sharp, creak, but rather the sort of creak someone who was trying very hard not to would make, after they had paused and tried to become as small as possible. Sighing briefly, but not really meaning it, Sand put down his book and picked up his staff, which had been leaning against the bed. Pointing it at the solitary oak wardrobe which stood near the door, he shuffled over and slowly turned the old, rusted key, in its lock. He flung open the wardrobe's door, and dropped his staff in shock, a look of intense horror on his face.

"KHELGAR?!"

"…aye?" the dwarf had the decency to look embarrassed.

"WHAT IN THE HELLS ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SOCK?!"

  

"No, no, no! The candles go on top, Grobnar! Not inside!" Kiadra rushed over to the gnome's workbench, waving her hands around crazily. The drow was in the Keep's Kitchen, trying desperately to teach Grobnar how to cook. She was failing miserably.

"But then, how do we eat them?" The gnome looked genuinely puzzled.

Kiadra rolled her eyes.

"Look, I'll tell you what. Just count them out, okay? One for every year. Simple. And we'll sort out the rest of it out when I get back." Kiadra leaned down, and scooped up her pack from one of the many stools that were dotted around.

"I think I understand…yes. But just how old i-"

But Kiadra had already given the gnome a farewell hug, and, slipping and tripping over the various things on the Kitchen's floor, had left.

"She must be late again. Oh well." Grobnar paused for a minute, and began to count the candles covering his bench.

"One…two…three…four…"

  

"This is a _complete_ waste of time! I fail to see how this could possibly help our battle with the King of Shadows!"

"Know that I believe the _Kalach-Cha_ only told you this to enlist your support. I suggest that to avoid her wrath, you blow up more than those you have already."

"I'll do as many as I want, you damn gith. This is humiliating, and ultimately, damned stupid. If the demons and devils of my haven could see me now…"

"Know that they most likely can. You have made many enemies in the Lower Planes, and they are usually very well-informed."

"…Shut up."

Ammon Jerro and Zhjaeve sat in one of the many unused rooms of the Keep, amidst a mountain of small brown cardboard boxes with unhelpful names stamped on them, and a much smaller pile of balloons. The Captain had put them in charge of decoration, as they seemed the only ones mature enough to handle rubber in large quantities. Neither of them was overly impressed.

"This is not achieving _anything_! I have many, many preparations to do for the upcoming war, and blowing up balloons is not one of them!!"

A silence followed.

"Know that I have made a giraffe."

  

"I am so, so, sorry!" Kiadra shouted, skidding on the cobblestones, still wet from the morning's rain, as she saw her travelling companions in the Keep's courtyard. With a yelp, she fell backwards, sending her bag flying into Bishop's face, who (along with their other companion, Casavir) had rushed to her aid, nearly knocking him out cold.

"WHY YO-!" Bishop began, before Casavir silenced him with a cold glare. Instead, he compromised with just a grunt.

"Are you all right, my lady?" Casavir asked, after helping a stunned Kiadra to her feet.

"Toast? Yes, I would like some! With a marshmallow, if you please. And don't skimp on the… the…" said the drow, before falling backwards again. Luckily, Casavir caught her before she hit her head. Just.

There was a few minutes silence, as they waited for her to regain consciousness. Eventually, Bishop sighed, and gathered up Casavir and Kiadra's belongings, adding them to his growing pile.

"Just don't start getting any _thoughts,_ paladin." he spat, making his way towards the Keep's gate.

Casavir leant down and picked up the drow, who had gone limp. She'd been overworking again.

"Don't put me on _your_ level, Bishop." he replied icily, before removing a slip of paper from the unconscious Captain's hand.

"Whatever. She'll be in a bad mood when she wakes up, you know. Have we got any chloroform?" Bishop stopped, and started to poke inside Kiadra's bag. Healing potions, her scimitars, a pot of something undistinguishable which Bishop had a feeling he _really_ didn't want to know about, and a book. A book. Bishop rolled his eyes. _Women._

"The Construct."

"What?" Bishop hurriedly shut the bag, and slung it back over his shoulder.

"She was going to take the Construct as well. Look, she had the commands on this paper." Casavir explained, handing the note to Bishop, who read it aloud.

"'_Attack'_

'_Don't attack'_

'_Clean dishes'?"_

Casavir raised an eyebrow.

  

"Is it safe?"

Neeshka peered round the door of Sand's room.

"He's not in there, if that's what you mean." she replied, "But safe for humanoid contact? Probably not."

"What..?" Qara leaned over the tiefling, and stuck her head round the door.

"See what I mean?"

"Oh gods. It's…so…so…manly!"

"Yeah, I-wait." Neeshka paused, "MANLY?!"

"I only meant it's untidy. Why are you looking at me like that?! That's all I meant by it, I swear!" The red-headed sorceress' face matched her hair as she stumbled into the room, narrowly missing a pile of books.

"Suuure…whatever you say, Qara." teased Neeshka, following her inside, moving with much more ease. After all, this wasn't the first time she'd been in here…it was her duty to check for valuables, was it not?

"Really, you are so immature, Neeshka." Qara flicked her hair indignantly, as the tiefling made a face behind her back, "Now, where do you think he keeps them?"

"No idea. It's hard to tell, under all of this junk. The wardrobe, maybe?" Neeshka strolled over, nimbly dodging the booby trapped books, and tapped it a few times.

She saw the sorceress' confused expression.

"Checking for traps. Won't take long." she pulled a strange looking mechanism out of her pocket, and lined it up with the lock.

"Oh, please. Move!" Qara pointed a finger at the opposing wardrobe. Neeshka had enough common sense to jump aside before the ensuing explosion.

"Well, congratulations. Now he'll _definitely _know we've been here!" the tiefling struggled out from under a pile of charred oak planks, and started to examine the remains, "Woah…what in the hells happened to this sock-"

"Neeshka! Look over here! I think I found it!" Qara exclaimed, hurriedly shifting dust and rubble off a large and tough looking box. Neeshka dropped the offending piece of hosiery and scurried over.

"Do…not…open!" she read aloud, "On pain of…lots and lots of pain? That means you, Neeshka!"

"Yep. That's got to be the one! Stand ba-"Qara began to lift her finger again, before being rugby-tackled by a terrified Neeshka.

"Let me handle this one, okay?" she begged, getting to her feet.

Qara stood up, crossed her arms, and pouted. Neeshka guessed that meant yes.

Several minutes had passed, in which Qara started reading "History of the Snail People", before Neeshka finally breathed a sigh of relief, and opened the box.

"He sure didn't want anyone to get in here…I wonder why…?" she asked, putting her equipment back into her bag.

Qara, who had begun to flick through the contents within seconds of Neeshka opening the box, burst into laughter.

"I think I know why…"she said, tears of laughter filling her eyes as she handed one of the small cases from the box to the tiefling, who looked disgusted.

"Neverwinter's Greatest…Linedancing…Hits…"

  

"One hundred and one, one hundred and two, one hundred and three…"

Khelgar burst through the kitchen door.

"Grobnar! Have ye seen the elf?! He's lost!"

"What? What? Oh… no. I haven't. No-one's been in here. I'm all alone…"

"Buggery!" Khelgar slammed the door shut behind him.

Grobnar sighed. Now, where was he…

"One, two, three, four…"

  

"You're wrong, you know."

"No, you are, paladin. Believe me, I read a book about it once."

"_You _read a book? I'm impressed, Bishop. Your mother must be so proud."

"Don't you dare drag my mother into this, yo-"

Kiadra awoke to the sound of her companions arguing, as usual. They had spent all night on the road, in the hopes of reaching their destination before sunrise as there was still much to be done. However, exhaustion had taken over and she had begged for them to stop for a few hours, at least. Travelling with the twosome was always tiring, but with all the extra organising she'd had to do as well…

"She's awake! Finally, a second opinion….tell me, _Captain,_ is it not true that Faerûn is really banana-shaped?" Bishop leaned over Kiadra's face, and stared at her. It was really quite disconcerting. Her expression must've shown this, because soon after Bishop was nursing a new bruise to the head, courtesy of a certain paladin.

_An hour or so later…_

Luck had been with the companions, for barely ten minutes had passed on the road before they were picked up by a merchant train, making its way into Neverwinter. Kiadra was especially thankful, as the merchants had managed to distract Bishop and Casavir from each other's company by trying to teach them to play Old Maid. It was, apart from the occasional outbursts of "Read 'em and weep, paladin!" and "For the last time, Bishop, we are _not_ playing strip poker!", a quiet ride into the city. It was only after they had arrived in the city that Kiadra asked her companions for the time.

"It's just after noon," said Bishop, looking up at the sky to see the sun's location, "Why?"

"Just after noon?! Oh, hells!" Kiadra started to panic, slinging her bag onto her back, and waving her hands in the air. She seemed to be doing that a lot recently.

"Is something wrong, my lady?" Casavir asked.

"Yes! Yes! I should've picked her up by now! Hells, hells, hells! Go and find him a present, okay?! Try around The Academy, I'll meet you back at the Keep!" Kiadra ran off, the Construct clunking slowly after her.

"That is _so_ like her!" grumbled Bishop, kicking a small stone across the street, "Leaving me with the _paladin_, of all things…Hey! Wait!"

  

Sand sat quietly in the Library, pouring over a particularly old and dull looking tome. His only company was Aldanon, who was sat in a corner gibbering to himself. Even the moon elf's exceptional hearing couldn't decipher whatever the sage was babbling about this time. He'd probably found a rock shaped like the Captain, or accidentally opened a portal to the Abyss in his bathroom, causing huge, ghastly creatures to escape and devour Qara. Ah, one could only dream.

**-CRASH-**

"Bloody 'ell!"

Sand sighed, and turned the page. He was beginning to wonder if he was losing his sanity…he kept seeing and hearing dwarves everywhere…

Sighing again, the elf sent a small lightning bolt over his shoulder. He waited until the yelling and patter of feet had died away, before attending to the toppled bookcase.

Aldanon stopped his babbling briefly to watch the elf pick up the books.

"Jolly good show, old chap! The tap-dancing elephants were particularly good!"

  

"Hah-hah! Look at this, foolish gith! A dragon! Beat that!" Ammon Jerro waved his newest creation in the air before adding it to the growing pile of balloon creatures beside him. So far he'd made several poodles, a family of tana'ri, the dragon, and an orc that looked like it had constipation.

"Know that I have moved past such simple creatures." replied Zhjaeve, whose own pile was slightly larger than the warlock's, and featured Shadow Reavers, whole orc tribes, and a pretty accurate mini-Kiadra, whose face had been drawn on with pen. She was busy doing the other members of their party, and ignored the enraged warlock's cursing when his dragon popped.

  

"L…look at this one, Q..qara!" Neeshka cried, barely able to speak through her laughter.

Qara leaned over, giggling all the while, and read the title out loud.

"Top Banjo Floor-fillers!"

  

Casavir and Bishop wandered around the many stalls at the Academy's gate in deathly silence. After a few hours of picking up magical artefacts and pretending to be interested, the ranger couldn't stand it any longer.

"Look, this is _pointless_! Let's just buy the bloody elf a gift voucher for the Moonstone Mask and be done with it!"

Casavir hit him round the head.

"I hardly think that's appropriate, Bishop. He's not like _you._ And stop making such a scene, people are staring."

"You HIT me! And it h-," Bishop remembered himself, and simply growled.

"Erm, excuse me." Someone tapped the ranger on the shoulder.

"WHAT?!" he snapped, spinning round. Instead of the glare of an impatient shopper, which is what he was expecting, Bishop's gaze met that of a young female elf, dressed in the Academy's robing.

"I'm sorry for eavesdropping, but did I hear that right? Are you really Bishop? _The_ Bishop?!" she grinned at him.

"Well…err…I am _a _Bishop," said the ranger meekly, taken aback by the elf's friendliness.

"WOW! And you!" the elf turned to Casavir, who was watching the ranger with a look of contempt, "_You_ must be Casavir! Oh. My. God! This is so…wow! I'm sorry, but this is so amazing…I can't believe you're just _there_! I'm really not making sense, am I? Where are my manners? My name's Llrael, and I'm a HUGE fan of yours!" the elf bobbed up and down as she talked, her messy brown hair flying.

Casavir and Bishop exchanged looks of disbelief.

"I'm really sorry, I mean, I know you must be really busy, saving the world and everything, but would you mind…please…?" Llrael produced a quill and slip of paper from somewhere in her robe, and waved them in Bishop's face.

  

"Three hundred and fifty three, three hundred and fifty four, three hundred and fifty five…"

Once again, the door to the Kitchen burst open, although this time by an extremely disturbed moon elf, who rushed across the floor, and dived under Grobnar's workbench.

"If he asks, I'll be sure to tell him that you're definitely not here!" said the gnome, as Sand rocked backwards and forwards.

The bench mumbled appreciatively.

Barely a few minutes had passed before…

"GROBNAR! Have ye seen that son-of-a-banshee elf?!" Khelgar ran through the door, his eyes wild, flicking from side to side.

"Sadly not, I'm afraid. Maybe the Wendersnaven took him?"

"Aye, that's a thought! To Wendrithm!" Khelgar cried, running out again.

A silence followed. (Grobnar was counting in his head)

"Dwarves…dwarves…everywhere!" Sand rocked furiously, occasionally banging his head.

"And not a drop to drink…" sang Grobnar automatically.

Another silence.

"…What?"

  

Bishop lay against the wall of the alleyway, panting. His armour had been ripped, and there were lipstick marks all over his face.

"I…I…think we lost them…"

Casavir groaned. He'd taken several hits to the shins from market stalls during their speedy retreat, and was now kneeling on the floor, tending to his wounds. There had been so…_many _of them…

"You shouldn't have signed it…" he glared at the ranger.

"H...hey! How was I s...supposed to k…know she had friends!" Bishop shuddered at the memory of Llrael's "few friends" – other wise known as the entire female student body of the Academy. Being chased by hordes of screaming girls is not nearly as fun as he thought it would be.

Casavir groaned again.

"Where _are_ we?"

_A little bit later on…_

The two were walking down an unremarkable street that looked strangely like the one they'd gone down a few minutes before…

"This is ridiculous! We're adventurers! We can't be _lost!_"

"We are not lost, Bishop, we just don't know where we are."

"That's the same thing, you idiot! If the drow hears about this, I'll never get a moments peace again!"

"Speaking of the Captain, I wonder how she's getting on…"

"Much better than us, I'll bet!"

  

In fact, the Captain of Crossroad Keep, Destroyer of Shadow, Saviour of Neverwinter, and all that jazz, would've given anything to change places with the paladin and ranger. Her new travelling companion was a little hard to bear.

"You call _this_ food?! In my day, we ate _proper_ bread, not this flimsy bit of cardboard!"

"You expect _me_ to sleep outside?! At _my_ age?! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"I don't like the way that _thing_ is looking at me! It's planning something, I can tell!"

Kiadra suddenly felt a new-found respect for her dear Sand. How he put up with this, she'll never know.

  

After being assured by Grobnar that dwarves were not actually stalking him, and that all he needed was a good night's sleep and an interesting book, Sand returned to his room. Ignoring the broken remains of his wardrobe, the wizard did a quick perimeter check to make sure that there were definitely no dwarves spying on him (after all, Grobnar could be wrong…), before falling into bed. Falling being the most appropriate word, because he had tripped over a pile of books. Soon enough, however, the sound of snoring filled the room.

"Okay, ready? Just take the funniest ones, and let's get out of here!"

Neeshka and Qara tiptoed out of Sand's room, a bundle of cases under each of their arms. Giggling, they shut the door behind them, and ran full speed down the corridor.

  

_A few days later._

"Are you sure he's coming, Khelgar?"

"Aye, lass. Where's Kiadra?"

"The Captain left us to get the special guest."

"Yeah, she should be along soon, she wasn't far behind us. Why are we doing this, anyway?!"

"Because, Bishop, it's not every day you turn 500. And despite his many, _many_ faults, we all love the grumpy old elf."

Someone coughed.

"Except for Qara."

"Thank you."

"Anyway, stop asking questions, and blow out the lamps!"

Silence followed.

"I _cannot_ believe I am doing this."

More silence.

"Shut up, Jerro."

  

Sand gently pushed open the door to the Library. He'd found a note on his bed when he'd woken up, telling him to come here. It had been badly spelt, and written with red crayon. He guessed it was from Khelgar.

It was pitch black inside, which was very suspicious. The moon elf always left the lamps in the Library burning, mainly because it made Aldanon, who was afraid of the dark, start talking about singing potatoes whenever they were off. Sand sniffed the air, and was shocked to find-

"SURPRISE!" As one, his travelling companions leaped out from behind their various hiding places, and, in some cases jumped on him. The elf was buried under seven hundred pounds of dwarf, tiefling, and extremely hyper gnome.

"Happy Birthday, Sand!" cried Neeshka, giving him an extra special birthday beating.

"Blaargerrof!" mumbled the trapped wizard, trying desperately to remove Khelgar from his face. Eventually, Casavir came over and helped Sand up, before thrusting a small envelope at him.

"It is from me, the Captain, and Bishop. I apologise in advance."

Sand raised an eyebrow, and sniffed the envelope. It didn't smell like it was going to explode, so he opened it, sliding the piece of paper out very slowly. He had just caught a glimpse of the Moonstone Mask logo before he was dragged away by Grobnar.

"Look, Sand! I baked you a cake! Eat iit!" cried the gnome, thrusting a slice of deadly looking cake into the startled elf's mouth, who reluctantly chewed, then swallowed.

"It's very…original, Grobnar. Tell me, why does it taste of wax?"

"Oooh, Saaaand! I have a surprise for you!" sang Qara, who was standing next to a table piled high with the wizard's music collection.

"Oh no!" he cried.

But it was too late. Gradually, the sound of a rather badly played banjo filled the room, and everyone, (with the exception of Qara and Neeshka, who'd burst out laughing again) turned to look at Sand, who hung his head in shame. However, they were distracted from the moon elf's musical tastes by the sound of a shrill voice climbing the stairs outside.

"_Why_ must you hold this infernal thing in such a high room?! Making me walk all the way up here, at _my_ age?! And you call _this_ a tapestry?! In my day, tapestries didn't just _hang_ there! They jolly well made the place look more decent! Is this the room?! It had better be, or there's going to be _trouble_!"

The Library door flew open, and Kiadra hobbled in. She had numerous new wounds to the head, her hair was a complete mess, and she had a slight twitch in her right eye. Groaning, she reached across the makeshift bar that Khelgar had set up, and downed a whole tankard of ale.

In perfect unison, the party turned round towards the door, just in time for the entrance of a tall, elderly elven woman, who looked around the room until…

"SANDIKINS!"

…who groaned, and tried to hide under the table.

  

The next morning, Sand awoke in his own bed. This was somewhat of a relief, because he recalled drinking vast amounts of ale in order to drown out the sounds of his mother last night, and such things never end well. Stretching, the elven wizard slipped out of bed, and crossed his room to the window. He pulled back the curtains, and looked down into the keep below. Behind him, though, something stirred.

"Will ye close the damn curtains? I'm _trying_ to sleep."

Sand turned around, very slowly, let out an ear-piercing scream and fled the room in horror.

When she was sure he had gone, Qara sidled out of her hiding place, and deactivated her spell.

Oh, she'd got him.

She'd got him good.


End file.
